


Of Debutantes and Dashing Dreamboats

by missmagoo



Series: Of Debutantes Verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Derek and Stiles are the Same Age, Fluff, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmagoo/pseuds/missmagoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a debutante.</p><p>Stiles is a cocky party-crasher from the public high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Debutantes and Dashing Dreamboats

**Author's Note:**

> Mature rating is for description of Derek in heat. Any action beyond kissing is strictly solo.
> 
> See below for world-building notes and/or trigger warnings

“What about the Martin girl?” His mother asks. “I’m close with her father, I’m sure if I asked-”

“Taking Jackson Whittemore.” Derek says quickly. Bad enough he has to go through this whole debutante process, he doesn’t want his escort to be someone who’s only on his arm because his mother got their parents to insist.

“What about that scholarship boy? McCall, was it? He’s an alpha, isn’t he?” His mother says.

“Already taking Allison Argent.” Derek says snappishly. McCall wouldn’t actually have been a bad date, if Derek had to choose. He’s friendly and low-key, and he’s never made Derek feel out of place, which is more than he can say for the rest of the population of Beacon Valley Prep. Too bad he basically fell in love with someone in Derek’s debutante class on basically the first day of school.

“Honestly, Derek, the ball is only three weeks away and your choices are only going to get slimmer as time goes on!” Talia Hale says, frustrated, to her omega son. “You’ve rejected every Alpha of a respectable age that I can think of, and if we keep going at this rate I’ll have to put Laura on your arm!”

“No!” Laura shouts, “Absolutely not! Mom, you _know_ it’s social suicide to have a relative as your escort at the debutante ball. I have a hard enough time as it is convincing people that Derek’s not a complete social reject.”  Derek scowls at his sister, who smirks at him and says, “What? You know it’s true. Look, Mom, I’ll ask around my year, see if there’s someone who’s willing to take pity on him.”

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just ask Danny to do it!” Derek says. Danny Mahealani is one of the few people at school Derek is actually on friendly terms with. Saying they’re friends would be a stretch, but Danny’s always been a good team-mate and a willing partner on class projects.

“Danny’s a beta, dear.” His mother reminds him, unnecessarily. “I know it’s not strictly speaking against the rules to have a beta escort, but it will really look so much better for you if you have an alpha on your arm.”

“What’s wrong with betas?” Derek demands, just to get under his mother’s skin.

“Nothing!” She insists, a little more vehemently that necessary, “Darling, you know I would never say there was anything wrong with being a beta. Betas are valuable members of our society! It’s just,” She pauses for a moment to choose her words, “this event is about _tradition_ , darling, and traditionally, omega debutantes are escorted by an alpha.”

Derek glowers and sinks lower into his chair. If it weren’t for his mother’s insistence, he wouldn’t even be participating in this archaic ritual. It’s demeaning, is what it is. A formal announcement to all of high society that the Hales have an omega child of mating age. He’d told his father once that he was surprised he was not expected to provide proof of his dowry as part of the ceremony. His father had chuckled and ruffled his hair and assured him that just because his parents had met at his debutante ball, they weren’t putting any pressure on Derek to find his mate any time soon. It hadn’t been as reassuring as his father probably meant it to be.

“--Derek are you even listening to me?” His mother asked, impatiently.

“What?” Derek said. His mother sighed.

“I _said_ that if we have any hope of finding you an escort you’re even remotely happy with, you’re going to have to put some effort into searching yourself.” She says, “Honestly, sweetheart, I wish you would take this all a little more seriously. I know you think it’s silly and old-fashioned, but it really means quite a lot to me. And it’s important to your future, too, you know. The people you’ll meet through being a debutante can help you get into the right college, find a good mate, even help you find a career you’ll like.”

Derek rolls his eyes. His grades are good, his extracurriculars are strong, and he’s attending one of the most prestigious private high schools in the state. He won’t have any trouble getting into a good school. And besides, he still has two years of high school left. He’s sick of the way his mother always acts like getting in good with her high-society friends is the only way to succeed in life.

“Laura tells me there’s a big school mixer this Friday with Devonford, Oakridge, and several other local schools. You’ll have a good chance of meeting a nice alpha escort there.” His mother says.

“I’m not going.” Derek tells her.

“You most certainly are.” She replies, “And you will talk to the alphas from the other schools, and see if any of them would be suitable escorts for the ball. It’s called cultivating connections, Derek, and it’s a very valuable life skill.”

* * *

The party is awful. It’s hosted at a country club out by the Devonford campus, and everyone is dressed up in a suit and tie or a fancy dress. The music is stuffy and formal, suitable for ballroom dancing, and the refreshments are arranged so immaculately that Derek’s afraid to touch them.

Derek had showered at school after basketball practice, and his mother had scowled at him as soon as he got home to change.

“You practically smell like a beta, dear. You have such a _nice_ scent. I don’t know why you insist on washing it away so much.” She’d huffed as she hurried him into his suit.

Laura had wrinkled her nose at him as he walked by. “You smell like soap, Der. No alpha wants to dance with an omega who smells like soap.”

Talia had practically begged Laura to help Derek find a nice alpha dance partner in the car. Thankfully despite agreeing to do their mother’s bidding, Laura had pretty much disappeared with her senior friends the minute they got in the door, leaving Derek alone. He wandered the room aimlessly for a few minutes, watching as his classmates and the other prep school kids mix and mingle. He tries to look approachable, circling the party like he’s searching for people he knows, but after a few minutes without anyone trying to strike up a conversation with him, he escapes to the patio.

It’s a nice night, and it’s quiet outside, which Derek likes. He kind of wishes he’d snuck a book with him, so he could just sit out here and read until it’s time to go home.

“So this is how the other half lives, huh?” Comes a voice from behind him, and Derek turns to see a boy swinging over the short ledge surrounding the patio. An alpha, Derek realizes as he gets closer. His hair is ruffled in a way that’s just shy of being artful, and his ill-fitting sport-coat is partially obscuring a faded Iron Man tee-shirt. He has warm, brown eyes that are sparkling with mischief. “All caviar and wooing impressionable young omegas. Pretending to be upstanding young members of society. Why aren’t you in there asking some pretty omega to dance?”

“I am an omega.” Derek says with a sigh. It’s not the first time he’s been mistaken for a beta, and it probably won’t be the last. He’s taller than the average (stereotypical) omega, and more muscular thanks to his ongoing participation in sports and his habit of working away his stress in the weight room. That, combined with the scent thing, well - people can hardly be blamed for presuming, as his mother is quick to remind him.

It doesn’t really bother him, he knows most people expect omegas his age to be flaunting their scents, not washing it off almost daily the way Derek does. Though most people can tell by the time they’re standing as close as this stranger is. This stranger who - without even asking - leans in and sniffs him.

“So you are!” He says, smiling unabashedly as he leans back. “These fancy high-society flowers must be super-fragrant. That, or I’m already drunk already. Which I shouldn’t be.” He takes a flask out from his jacket pocket and shakes it by his ear, listening intently before giving a noncommittal hum and taking a swig.

He offers it to Derek, who waves him off before asking, “Who _are_ you?”

“Oh! Sorry! Manners, you know? First thing to go.” Says the alpha. He tucks the flask back in his pocket and offers a hand. “Stiles Stilinski, at your service.” He says with a wink.

Derek takes the offered hand instinctively, and says, “Derek Hale. But, sorry, I meant more what are you doing here? You’re not exactly dressed for the event and, forgive me for saying so, you don’t really seem like you’re from one of the invited schools.”

Stiles snorts. “Me? A prep school kid? Get real. Nah, my friend Scotty invited me. Scott McCall? Beacon Valley Prep?”

“I know Scott, he’s a classmate of mine.” Derek says. “He invited you?”

“Well, invited’s a strong word.” Stiles hedges, “It was more, he said ‘dude, it’d be so much more fun if you could come!’ and then I decided to crash. He doesn’t actually know I’m here yet.”

Derek expects Stiles to move on after that, head into the party and find McCall. Instead, Stiles rocks back on his heels, letting the silence grow awkward.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier and not, you know, realizing… I’m still kinda getting over this cold and my senses are all - “ He flails his arms demonstratively around his face. “I didn’t mean any offense, you know?”

“It’s fine.” Derek says. “I showered before the party, so, you know. Some alphas don’t really like it, but I hate going around all sweaty after practice.”

“No, hey. That’s cool. Cleanliness is next to godliness, right?” Stiles replies.

“What? Who says that?” Derek asks.

“Uh… the bible? I think?” Stiles says, scratching his head roughly. It messes his hair up even further. It looks ridiculous. Not adorable, Derek tells himself firmly, ridiculous.

“You should dance with me.” Stiles says abruptly.

“Why?” Derek says, and that is so not what he meant to say. A polite but firm ‘thank you, but I’m sitting this one out’ is the correct way to refuse a dance, or so his mandatory social dance lessons taught him.

“To help me blend. C’mon, please?” Stiles grins at him. It shouldn’t be half as charming as it is.

“I don’t think anything could help you blend.” Derek says, raising an eyebrow and Stiles’ offered hand.

“Dance with me anyway.” Stiles says. His eyes are warm, and his smile is bright, and Derek did promise his mother he’d spend time getting to know alphas from other schools, so he takes Stiles’ hand and lets himself be led back inside to the dance floor.

“I don’t know any of your fancy cotillion dance steps.” Stiles confesses, pulling Derek close and placing his hands on Derek’s hips, “So you’re just gonna have to live with the good old fashioned prom date sway.”

“I’ve never been very good at the fancy kind of dancing anyway.” Derek replies, draping his arms over Stiles’ shoulders. The sport-coat is baggy and poorly cut. It hides how broad Stiles is. He’d looked scrawny out on the patio, but as he presses close to Derek it becomes clear that they’re almost the same size. Stiles is maybe even slightly taller, though not by more than an inch.

Derek finds himself getting lost in his scent - an alpha scent, steady and comforting, though not overbearing like some of the alphas in Derek’s class. It’s overlaid with the smell of whiskey and mulch and the flowers from the patio, and if Derek focuses, he can even make out faintly the smell of McCall. Stiles had said they were friends, they must have spent some time together earlier today.

“What do you play?” Stiles asks, startling Derek out of his thoughts.

“What?” He asks, then winces at his own awkwardness.

“You said you showered after practice. What do you play?” Stiles repeats. They’re dancing close enough that it would be awkward to look Stiles in the face, but Derek wishes he could nevertheless.

“Um, basketball.” Derek replies, “I’m a starter this year. Which, you know, is awesome, but it’s a lot of work, too.”

“I wouldn’t know, I suck at sports.” Stiles replies cheerfully. “I’m on the lacrosse team, but I’m a total benchwarmer. Hey, I think I see Scott!” He turns them slightly so Derek can see where he’s looking without craning his neck.

“Is that the lovely Allison Argent he’s dancing with? I’d like to say I’ve heard so much about her, but most of what I’ve heard is lovestruck gibberish. Her smile is like the sun! Her scent is like moonlight! Her hair is like…I don’t know, something flowery and poetic.” Stiles sways dramatically as he describes Allison through Scott’s eyes, startling a laugh from Derek. He sobers quickly, though, and says, “Derek, tell me truthfully. Does my boy have a shot with this girl? Or am I going to be picking up the pieces of his broken heart in the near future.”

“Well, she did ask him to escort her to the debutante ball.” Derek says, “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“I’m sorry, the what now?” Stiles asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, or disbelief, or, Derek doesn’t know. _Something_. “I could have sworn you said ‘debutante ball’, but that can’t be right since we’re not living in a regency romance novel.”

Derek sighs.

“Oh my god, are you a debutante, Derek? Are you going to debut? Is this the fulfillment of your life-long ambition to be sold off to a well-bred alpha of means?” Stiles asks, with a perverse sort of delight.

“Yes, yes, and absolutely not.” Derek says, “I’m only doing it because my mother is insisting. It’s not exactly my idea of fun.”

“And what is your idea of fun, Derek Hale?” Stiles asks, playful smirk evident in his tone.

“I don’t know.” Derek says honestly, “Something that’s not so… formal, I guess.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Stiles grins. They dance together quietly, not doing much more than swaying.

Around them, Derek’s classmates are practicing the boxstep and other moves Derek’s been learning in dance class since he was nine. The box step always reminds him of being the last omega without a dance partner, and having to dance with the teacher because one of the alpha students was out sick. Derek prefers the way Stiles’ hands rest low on his hips to the way an alpha’s hand is supposed to press firmly on his back in closed position.

“Stiles?” Says McCall, finding them as the song ends, Allison at his side looking amused, “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Scott!” Stiles says, letting go of Derek to face his friend, “I came to keep you company! But you seemed rather happily occupied, so I thought I’d hang with my new friend Derek for a bit.”

McCall’s eyes dart to Derek, like he’d hardly realized he was there, and says, “Hey, Derek. Sorry about Stiles. I didn’t know he was planning on crashing.”

“It’s no problem.” Derek assures, as Stiles protests, “Hey! I thought you’d be happy to see me, man!”

McCall starts to answer, but he’s interrupted.

“Excuse me, young man.” Says one of the chaperones, crashing their conversation to address Stiles. “What school are you with?” She’s holding a clipboard with the guest list, no doubt to check for Stiles’ name once she has it.

Stiles shrugs, and tells her, “Beacon Hills High School.”

“I’m afraid that school was not invited to tonight’s event.” The chaperone says, “And you’re attire is not within the dress code. I’ll have to see you out.” The chaperone grabs him by the elbow and starts leading him towards the door.

“Bye Scott, Allison!” He says as he’s being led away, “I’ll see you soon, Derek Hale.” And then he winks at Derek.

* * *

When Derek gets home, he has a Facebook notification waiting for him.

**_Stiles Stilinski has sent you a friend request._ **

****

Derek waffles for a few moments before clicking _accept_. As soon as he does, he sees he has a message waiting for him.

_Hey there, Derek Hale. Thought this might be your kind of fun. My friend’s performing, so I can get us in no problem. Dress code: Come as you aren’t!_

__

Attached is a flyer for a show at some club called the Jungle advertising a band called Princess Consuela Banana Hammock. The show is tomorrow night, and while it’s not the kind of fun Derek is used to having, it sounds like exactly the kind of thing he’s always wished he was cool enough to do. Plus, his mother would hate it if she finds out.

He debates a moment over what he wants to say before replying:

_Sounds like fun! What does that mean, “come as you aren’t”?_

__

It’s barely a minute before Stiles’ reply comes in:

_whatever you want it to ;)_

__

Derek exchanges a few more messages, arranging to meet Stiles at the club the next night, before closing his computer and heading to Laura’s room. He knocks on the door before poking his head inside.

“I need your help.” He says, because Laura loves feeling important.

“Well that’s not something I normally hear from you.” She says, grinning, “What can I do for you, baby bro?”

“You get invited to theme parties sometimes, right?” He says, even though he knows she does. He’s seen enough of her insane costumes. “How do you dress for ‘come as you aren’t’?”

Laura sits up on her bed, giving Derek her full attention. “Did you get invited to a come as you aren’t party? Whose house is it at? How did you get invited before me? Oh my god, does this have something to do with that little party crasher you were dancing with tonight?”

“What? I don’t - how do you know about that?” He asks.

“Seriously? Everyone was talking about it.” She says, “Is it true he kissed you right in front of the chaperone?”

“What? No! Who told you that?” Derek says.

“Like, three different people. Whatever, it was genius. People think you’re some kind of rebel now. I’ve already had a bunch of people ask me if you still need an escort for the debutante ball.” Laura says excitedly. “Derek, if we play this right you could actually be popular before I leave for college. No more spending lunch tucked in a corner with some book!”

Derek likes his corner and his books. He doesn’t really get Laura’s obsession with pulling him up from loserdom.

“I don’t care, Laura. Are you gonna help me pick something to wear or not?” Derek grumbles.

“When’s the party?” Laura asks.

“Tomorrow night.” Derek says.

“Right. Your room. Now.” Laura says, and marches him to his wardrobe.

* * *

Derek feels stupid. He should have expected it, asking for Laura’s help. She’d told him “Come as you’re not” was all about subverting some part of your identity, and stepping out of your comfort zone. “And looking fucking hot while doing it.” Laura had said. “We lucked out with you, because one thing you aren’t is cool.”

He’s wearing a pair of dark wash jeans he outgrew last year. They’re too tight, and he has to wear them really low on his hips to keep the legs from riding up over his ankles. He’s got on a pair of black boots he didn’t know he owned until Laura somehow pulled them out of his closet, a dark v-neck that he still thinks is too tight, and a leather jacket that had belonged to his dad in college. Laura’s done something with his hair with some sort of goop that makes it look all spiky and styled, and she’d tried to put eyeliner on him, but he fought her off.

“I look like a slut.” He tells her, staring at himself in the mirror. Between the low-riding jeans and the tight shirt, he’s flashing his hip bones nearly every time he moves.

“You look hot.” Laura insists, “as much as it pains me to admit that about my sibling. Now get going or you’re going to be late! And take photos for Facebook! Remember, pics or it didn’t happen!”

He didn’t shower today, thanks to a rare flash of desire to show off his omega scent as he got ready to meet Stiles, but now that he’s on his way to the Jungle he suddenly feels shy about it.

He parks around back and headed to the rear entrance where Stiles had said they’d meet. He spots Stiles by the door, chatting easily with what looks like some of the band members. He looks, if Derek’s being honest, ridiculously sexy. He’s wearing some kind of corset top that’s black with glittering gold trim that makes his waist look tiny and his shoulders look incredibly broad. He’s wearing gold leggings and black high tops and looks like he walked into some sort of glitter bomb with the way his shoulders, cheeks, and hair are dusted in gold shimmer. He grins when he sees Derek coming.

“You made it!” Stiles says, rushing up to him. “Wow, you look incredible.”

Derek shrugs shyly. “It’s nothing compared to…” he trails off, gesturing to Stiles’ outfit.

“I know, right! Kind of over-the-top.” Stiles laughs, “I’m normally more of a jeans and tee shirts kinda guy, but I let Jack dress me, and he’s kind of hard to stop once he gets going.”

He pulls Derek along by the hand, introducing him to everyone. The “Jack” who had apparently dressed Stiles was a towering alpha drag queen named Jackie Ohh, which was apparently only pronounced correctly when it was said like a moan. When he’s not in drag, Jack is apparently one of Stiles’ father’s deputies at the Sheriff’s station and Stiles’ former baby-sitter. The rest of the band were all drag queens, too, and they were clearly all incredibly fond of Stiles.

“So how did you meet our precious little mascot, Derek?” a broad omega queen named Cherry Poppins asks.

“Um. He kind of crashed a party I was at last night, then facebook stalked me.” Derek admits, which seems to delight Cherry. She reaches to pinch Stiles’ cheek, and he bats her away like it’s habit.

“I did not facebook stalk you!” Stiles protests, “I sent you a friend request and an awesome invite, which you replied to, might I add!”

“I didn’t say I minded.” Derek says, and tries not to look embarrassed when Stiles grins at him.

Stiles drags Derek out to the dance floor while the band finishes setting up. The club isn’t packed, but it’s starting to fill up, and there’s a DJ playing to keep people entertained before the live music starts. Stiles starts dancing, his hips rolling to the beat, his arms flailing every which way. It should look ridiculous, it does, but it’s also kind of making Derek’s mouth go dry.

“Come on! Don’t make me dance alone like a loser!” Stiles says with a grin, grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him closer. Derek tries to mimic Stiles’ moves - terribly, he’s sure - but Stiles just smiles encouragingly and dances right along with him.

Somehow, Stiles’ hand makes its way to Derek’s hip, helping him find the beat, and they’re moving together to some pop song Derek knows he’s heard before but can’t name.

Cherry finds them a while later and tells them to find a seat if they can, because the band is going on in just a few minutes. She holds out a drink for each of them and tells them, “Not a word to Jackie, alright?” Stiles mimes zipping his lips before Cherry disappears back toward the stage.

Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and leads him to an open booth. Derek takes a cautious sip of his drink, and coughs as the burn of alcohol hits the back of his throat.

“There’s alcohol in these?” He asks, incredulous.

“Yeah.” Stiles confirms, “Cherry’s awesome like that. Drink it, like, super slowly, though. She always swears she makes them weaker for me, but I think that’s just compared to the way she practically drinks her liquor straight from the bottle.”

Derek takes another sip. It’s better, now that he’s expecting it. He grins at Stiles, and says, “I’m glad you asked me out tonight.”

Stiles grins back and knocks their legs together as he says, “I’m glad you came.”

* * *

“Cheese and rice, you two are smashed!” Jackie says when she finds them, hanging on one another in the middle of the dance floor. The band finished their set a few minutes ago, and there was house music playing again. Derek and Stiles had migrated from their booth some time in the middle of the set.

“Nuh-uh, we’re _dancin’_ ” Stiles protests, arms tightening around Derek’s waist.

“Yeah, I feel fine.” Derek agrees, slouching a little so he can rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder. It feels good, swaying against Stiles as the music washes over them. Jackie sighs and hustles the two of them into the back.

“ _Of course we won’t drink, Miss Jackie_ , he says, _of course I’ll be on my best behavior_ , he says, _I wouldn’t DREAM of getting the sweet omega boy I invited into any trouble_ , he says. Stiles, where are your keys?” Jackie tuts.

“I’ma pants.” Stiles slurs, clinging to Derek as they lean against the wall of the dressing room. His nose is buried in Derek’s neck, and even though it’s possible that Derek’s a little too drunk to be sure, he thinks Stiles is sniffing him.

“Your pants don’t have pockets, baby.” Jackie says.

“Otha’ pants.” Stiles corrects, waving his hand vaguely toward where his normal clothes were stashed. Jackie retrieves his things and herds them toward Stiles’ jeep. Derek tries to break away toward his car, fumbling in his pocket for his keys, but Jackie grabs the back of his jacket, pulling him back.

“Nuh-uh, baby. You aren’t driving anywhere tonight.” She says, and helps him into the back of Stiles’ jeep. Stiles climbs in after him instead of taking the front seat. He lays down across the bench and puts his head in Derek’s lap as Derek slumps back against the headrest.

“Y’smell so good, Der.” Stiles slurs from where his face is pressed into Derek’s thigh. “I know I’m not s’posta say becuzza manners an’ pr‘priety and stupid things, but you do. You smell really good.”

“Forgive him.” Jackie says to Derek, “He always overshares when he’s drunk.”

Derek nods, trying not to let Jackie see how pleased Stiles’ drunken mumbling makes him, and tells Jackie his address when she asks, and doses off for the rest of the ride.

He wakes as they pull onto his driveway, which is a long dirt road through the forest up to his house. Stiles startles in his lap, saying, “Why’sit bumpy?” as he sits up. Derek rubs his eyes and tries to ignore the way his lap suddenly feels cold.

“Oh god.” He moans as his house comes into sight. “I left the car, my mom’s gonna kill me!”

“Darling, she’s gonna be way too relieved you didn’t try to drive that car home in your current state to be mad about it sitting in a parking lot overnight.” Jackie assures him. “Get some sleep, sober up, and in the morning you can make this one” she tilts her head to indicate Stiles, “pick you up so you can go get it.”

She waits as he gets out of the car and walks toward the door, where his mother is waiting for him with arms crossed and a furious expression, driving off once he’s safely inside.

* * *

Derek’s mom is not, in fact, just relieved that he was smart enough to get a ride home instead of driving. At least, that’s the impression Derek gets from the angry lecture he receives about how irresponsible it is to go around sneaking into clubs with strange boys and coming home drunk. She even gives him coffee and makes him sober up before yelling at him.

_I’m grounded_ he texts Stiles before he goes to bed. _Don’t come over tomorrow, my mom’s taking Laura to get the car._

__

_i'm sorry :(_  Stiles sends back.

_worth it._ Derek sends before plugging his phone in for the night.

He’s getting ready for bed when his dad knocks on his door.

“Hey, son. I heard you got a bit of a talking-to from your mother tonight.” His dad says, “Mind if I come in?”

Derek shrugs as his dad comes to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” His dad asks, which makes Derek roll his eyes dramatically.

“It wasn’t a big deal!” Derek insists, “Laura goes to parties all the time. I know she’s come home way drunker than I was, and she never gets yelled at. A boy invites me out one time, and all of the sudden I’m the worst, most disobedient son ever!”

His dad chuckles, which makes Derek even angrier. “Derek, if you think your mother and I haven’t yelled at Laura plenty of times, you couldn’t be more wrong. And your mother is just worried. Laura’s an alpha, and a strong one at that. She can handle herself. And you’re-”

“Oh my god, Dad, stop with the weak, vulnerable omega crap!” Derek says, “I’m plenty strong, I can defend myself. Everyone’s always saying I’m practically a beta anyways, so I don’t see why you can’t _treat_ me like-”

 

“Because you’re _not_ a beta, son.” His dad interrupts. “I know you don’t like to hear it, I know I didn’t when I was your age, but there are certain realities about the world that you have to face.” His dad insists. “You’re an omega, for better or for worse, and as wrong as it is, not every alpha’s going to respect your space, or listen when you tell them no. When you go out dressed the way you were tonight - “

“I wasn’t even - “ Derek protests.

“And you drink and let your guard down,” his dad continues as if Derek hadn’t interrupted, “you put yourself in a vulnerable position. Your mom and I, we care about your safety first and foremost. And when you make decisions that jeopardize your safety, it makes us question your judgement.”

“You’re being so unfair right now!” Derek yells, “I was with people, good people. They looked out for me. They would’ve had my back if someone tried anything. And besides, I can take care of myself.”

“How many of those people had you met before tonight?” His dad asks, “And how many do you really know well enough to say if they’re good people or not.”

Derek glares at him. His dad sighs and pats his knee.

“Get some sleep, son. You’re waking up early tomorrow to help me with yardwork.” He says as he stands. Derek groans and flops down on his pillow.

“Do I have to?” He mumbles.

“You know you do.” His dad says. He flicks off the light and says, “Goodnight. Love you.”

Derek stays stubbornly silent for a few moments, before relenting and gritting out, “Love you, too.” as his dad shuts the door.

* * *

Derek is relieved to be back in school on Monday. He spent all day Sunday doing chores around the house, getting homework done, and avoiding heart-to-heart chats with his parents.

School should be, by comparison, a reprieve. Instead, it’s weird, because Laura hadn’t been kidding when she told him everyone had been talking about him dancing with Stiles on Friday night. People he’s barely talked to since middle school are clapping him on the back and winking at him in the hallways. A group of freshmen omegas actually sit at his table at lunch and demand to know all the details.

“Is it true he kissed you right in front of the chaperone?” One asks

“Is he gonna be your escort for the debutante ball?” asks another

“Was he, like, completely dreamy?” asks a third, and Derek can’t help but snort a laugh at that because, on the one hand, yeah, it’s safe to say he thinks Stiles is pretty dreamy. But on the other, more important hand: Who the hell says that?

He doesn’t actually answer any of them, just continues reading his book and eating his lunch while they bombard him with questions and debate each other about whether the way he blinked counts as an answer.

But despite the rise in unexpected attention, school is pretty normal. His teachers don’t care about new developments in his social life, and one of them even gives a detention to an annoying beta who works for the school newspaper and won’t stop throwing him notes asking for an exclusive interview about the “dashing party crasher who stole his heart”.

He’s kind of puzzled but relieved when McCall - no, Scott - drops into the seat next to him during biology.

“Do you have a partner for the ecosystems project yet?” Scott asks, and Derek shakes his head. He was pretty much planning on working with whoever the teacher assigned him to. Probably Greenberg, which would suck.

“Cool.” Says Scott. “You can be mine, then.”

“You aren’t working with Allison?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Nah.” Says Scott with a grin. “Lydia nabbed her for this one. And since the school can’t stop talking about your illicit dance with my best friend, I figure it’d be cool to get to know you better.”

“Ok.” Derek agrees. “But only if you promise you’ll never tell Stiles that our school has been describing him as ‘dashing’ and ‘dreamy’ all day.”

Scott laughs. “Oh man! I would never. He’d be completely insufferable. I had no idea that party crashing was such a big deal. At my old school, people crashed mixers all the time.”

“Welcome to the world of old money snobbery.” Derek says wryly.

“Eh, you rich kids aren’t that bad.” Scott smiles.

* * *

Scott asks Derek over to his house to work on the project that Wednesday. Technically, he’s still grounded through the week, but his mother has always put schoolwork first and relents when Derek tells her how much of his grade the project is worth.

They’ve been at Scott’s house for about half an hour when the front door opens. Derek looks at Scott, puzzled because Scott had told him his mom was on shift until late, until he hears Stiles yell, “Hey, Scotty! I told my dad I was coming over for din-” He stops as he enters the living room, where Scott and Derek are sitting with their biology books spread out. Derek and Stiles haven’t talked since Saturday, since Derek’s grounding includes surrendering his phone to his mother when he gets home after school, and Derek can admit (at least in the privacy of his own mind) that he’s a little nervous about seeing the alpha boy again.

“Hey…” Stiles says slowly, looking flustered. “Derek’s here! Scott, can I see you for a sec?”

Scott grins, like Stiles’ reaction is the funniest thing he’s seen all day, and obediently follows Stiles to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want something?” He says to Derek as he goes, and Derek dumbly shakes his head, trying to fight off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“What the hell, dude!” Stiles whispers furiously as soon as they’re out of sight. Derek’s pretty sure neither of them realize how well his voice carries.

“You’re welcome, bro.” Scott whispers back, “You got him grounded, so I got you a school-related reason to hang out with him! I am an awesome friend.”

“And I love you for that, Scotty. Seriously.” Stiles hisses, “But a little heads up would be nice! Just a little text saying, hey buddy! That dude you have an enormous crush on is gonna be at my house when you come over! Try not to be your normal, embarrassing self!”

“Stiles, you’re fine--”

“I haven’t washed this shirt in three weeks, Scott!”

“Ew! Why are you wearing it?”

“That’s not the point! The point is I would have changed if I’d known there was a reason to!”

“There is a reason to! It’s called basic hygiene!

Stiles lets out a frustrated noise. “I just - you should have texted me, ok?”

“Ok.” Scott agrees, “Next time I will. Now come on, I feel bad leaving him out there.”

Derek tries to look absorbed in his biology book as they come back out, like he wasn’t just listening to their conversation. He can’t quite suppress the small smile on his face knowing that Stiles definitely likes him, too.

“I grabbed you a coke.” Scott says, “We’ve got water or juice if you’d rather-  
  


“No, coke’s fine.” Derek says, accepting the can, “Thanks.”

“I hope you don’t mind if Stiles hangs out with us.” Scott says, “We kind of have a routine when our parents are both on evening shifts.” Stiles forces a smile and gives the most awkward half-wave Derek has ever seen.

“Of course not.” Derek says, and smiles as Stiles sits down next to him on the couch.

Surprisingly, he and Scott get a lot of work done. Stiles has homework of his own, and he flits between a history book, a novel for his lit class, and a math problem set at random intervals, occasionally tossing in a comment about Scott and Derek’s project.

Around seven, Stiles’ stomach growls loudly, startling all of them.

“Dude.” He says to Scott. “Dinner time.”

“Definitely.” Scott agrees. “You wanna stay for dinner, Derek?”

Stiles is looking at him hopefully, and Derek really wants to stay. But he’s grounded and probably on thin ice for staying at Scott’s house this long.

“I can’t.” He says, “My mom’ll be pissed if I don’t get home soon.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Stiles says, hopping up as Derek starts heading toward the door. He grabs Derek’s hand and holds it, linking their fingers together as they walk to Derek’s car.

“I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your mom.” Stiles says, “Jack totally ratted me out to my dad, if it makes you feel better, and he kinda laid into me about not being a bad influence.”

“You’re not a bad influence.” Derek says, “My parents are just over-reacting. If I was an alpha like my sisters they wouldn’t even be mad.”

Stiles kicks at the dirt, a guilty look on his face.

Derek tugs at his hand until he looks up. ”I’m glad I went. It was fun” Derek says, smiling. “My mom hasn’t told me how long I’m grounded for, but once I’m not anymore I’d really like to go out with you again.”

“Oh, I - Me too.” Stiles says, smiling back. He leans in quickly and presses a kiss to Derek’s cheek, the drops his hand and steps back. “Text me later, ok?” He says walking backwards toward the house.

Derek can’t stop smiling the whole drive home.

* * *

“Tell me you love me.” Laura says, barging into Derek’s room a few days later.

“No.” Derek says, not looking up from his book.

“You’re really gonna want to when I tell you what I just did for you.” She says, and then just stares at him as he tries to ignore her.

Finally, he heaves a frustrated sigh, puts his book down, and says, “What.”

“I got you ungrounded!” Laura says, bouncing on his bed excitedly. Derek’s annoyance immediately turns to suspicion.

“How?” He asks, “And also, why?”

“Jordan Parrish is throwing a party on Saturday, and I got you and Cora invited!” She says. Jordan’s in Laura’s class, and has a reputation for throwing incredible parties. “And Mom agreed to let you go, because the Parrishes are a ‘good family’ and I assured her that there will be lots of nice, upstanding, age-appropriate alphas who might consider escorting you to the debutante ball.”

Derek groans. “No! Not more of this!”

“Mom’s getting really desperate.” Laura says, “You know there’s just over a week til the ball, right?”

“I know!” He says, “I’m hoping if I run out the clock and don’t pick someone, she’ll let me drop out of the whole thing.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not gonna happen. She’ll just stick me on your arm. And then you’ll be a huge loser, and I’ll be loser-adjacent, and that is just completely unacceptable.”

“Fine.” Derek sighs, “I’ll go.”

“Good.” Says Laura, standing up. She turns back before she leaves, and says, “Oh, there’s one other part I didn’t tell mom.”

Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Jordan said to tell you that if there’s someone you want to invite, he doesn’t have to crash this time.” She says, winking at him.

* * *

“You didn’t tell me your classmates were so easy to impress!” Stiles says, handing a beer in a red cup. It’s lukewarm and tastes like pisswater, but according to Laura that was the norm at high school parties. “Everyone seems to think I’m some kind of badass for crashing that fancy dance last weekend.”

Derek snorts into his cup. “If only they knew.” He teases.

“Whatever. You totally think I’m cool.” Stiles says, bumping their shoulders together. They haven’t seen each other since the study date at Scott’s, but they’ve been texting since then. (He’d convinced his mom that he needed to be able to communicate with Scott for their project, and she’d let him keep his phone.) Derek knows it’s ridiculous, but he feels like he’s known Stiles for much longer than a week.

He doesn’t have a chance to respond before Laura comes over to him, calling “There you are!”

“Look,” She says as she comes up to them, “I know you don’t want to, but Mom will actually kill me if I let you go home tonight without finding an escort.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles says, looking alarmed, “Why does your mom want Derek to find a hooker?”

“What?” Derek and Laura yell in unison, facing him with twin looks of horror.

Stiles looks embarrassed now. “Um. You didn’t mean, like, and _escort_ ” Stiles accompanies the word with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle, “did you.”

Laura’s looking at Stiles like he’s an idiot, so it falls to Derek to explain, “No. She means like an alpha to take me by the arm and escort me around at the Debutante Ball next weekend.”

“Oh.” Says Stiles, his face still red from the misunderstanding. “Well, I could do it. You know, if you want.”

Laura’s _you’re an idio_ t glare turns on Derek. “You told me he said no!” She hisses.

“I told you he wouldn’t want to.” Derek snaps. Then he turns to Stiles and says, “You don’t have to, you know. I know you think the whole thing’s stupid.”

“Well, yeah, but so do you.” Stiles says, awkwardly scratching a hand through his hair, “And, I dunno. I think it could be kinda fun if I’m there with you.”

“It’s settled, then!” Laura declares, “Stiles, give me your phone.”

“Uh, why?” Stiles asks, but he’s already handing it over.

“I’m getting your number. Someone has to take you from charming rebel to acceptable date, and Derek honestly has no idea what’s required.” Laura says, programming herself into Stiles’ phone and sending herself a text.

“Stiles, don’t listen to her. All you have to do is show up. My mom will be happy I have an escort, and I’ll be happy it’s you and not some asshole.” Derek says. Laura snorts dismissively.

“Yeah, ok.” She says sarcastically, “It’s just that easy. Welcome to high society, Stiles. Make sure your afternoons are free this week - they’re mine now.”

And with that, she hands his phone back and flounces away.

Stiles looks shell-shocked, and Derek feels himself flush with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, “I really didn’t mean to drag you into all of this.”

“Your sister’s kind of terrifying.” Stiles says, still staring blankly at the space Laura used to occupy. “Is she gonna crazy murder me?”

“No.” Derek says, trying to sound confident.

“Oh good. Because, you know, my father’s the sheriff and the sheriff’s department basically raised me. So, you know. That wouldn’t end well for her.”

“Let’s not talk about Laura anymore.” Derek says, grabbing Stiles’ hand. “Come dance with me.”

* * *

On Monday, after school, Derek gets a text from Stiles that reads:

_Laura has sworn me to secrecy about the escort things she’s making me do. I’m scared of her, so I’m doing what she tells me. Pls don’t hate me._

__

Derek replies to tell Stiles not to let Laura make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, but all he gets from Stiles for the rest of the week are increasingly distressed emojis.

Mid-way through the week, he asks Scott to keep an eye on Stiles for him, to make sure Laura isn’t bullying him too badly. Scott grins and agrees. He’d been thrilled when he learned that Stiles was escorting Derek to the ball.

The next day he sits down next to Derek in history class and says, “Dude. Your sister is terrifying.” and refuses to say anything else about the previous afternoon.

By the morning of the ball, Derek is a nervous wreck. He worries that Stiles will hate him for whatever Laura has put him through. He worries that his mother will disown him for bringing a date she doesn’t deem _appropriate_. He worries that Laura is planning some sort of sabotage. He worries that he’ll screw up somehow, embarrassing his family and making sure Stiles never speaks to him again.

“You look like you’re gonna throw up, kiddo.” His dad says to him as they pull into the driveway of the country club, “Try to relax and have some fun! Today’s a day you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

His mother stops him to fix his hair as soon as they’re out of the car. “Try to make a good impression, Derek.” She tells him, “There are a lot of important people here.”

Derek pulls a face, which makes her sigh and say, “You’re not a child anymore, sweetheart. You’re a young adult with a promising future, and today is all about opening doors to opportunities that will serve you later in life.”

Derek is relieved when he’s finally able to say goodbye to his parents and sit with the other omegas he’ll be debuting with.

They’ll be introduced alphabetically, which means Allison Argent will go first. The chaperone will escort them one-by-one from the mezzanine-level holding room to the grand staircase leading down to the main ballroom. The chaperone will announce each debutante’s name, pedigree (which is usually just their parents’ names except in special cases), and the name of their escort as the debutante descends the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, they allow their escort to take them by the hand and lead them to their designated position on the dance floor, where they will wait for the rest of the debutantes to be introduced before dancing together to a traditional waltz.

It is, in Derek’s considered opinion, an absolutely ridiculous display of needless pageantry.

Still, it makes him feel a little better to know that when he descends that staircase, it will be _Stiles_ waiting for him at the bottom.

* * *

The mandatory debutante’s first dance ends, and Stiles pulls Derek off the dance floor as older couples, many of them mated, pair up to dance.

Derek knows he should be finding his mother, should allow her to make all the important introductions she’s been dying to make for him, should do his best to represent the Hale family.

Instead, he catches Stiles smirking and allows himself to be pulled out of the main ballroom and into an empty coatroom.

“You’re definitely my favorite debutante of the group.” Stiles says with a sly smile.

“Stop making fun of me.” Derek complains. “You agreed to come, you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Not making fun.” Stiles says, “Derek, you look beautiful.”

Derek blushes, but meets Stiles halfway as he leans in for a kiss. It’s sweet and soft and completely earnest, none of the biting or teasing Derek would have expected from Stiles. He pulls Stiles closer, deepening the kiss, grateful for the privacy the abandoned coat closet affords them.

Stiles stumbles slightly as he pushes closer, pinning Derek’s back against the wall, and Derek feels something shift inside him. He’s hungry for Stiles’ touch in a way he wasn’t a moment ago. He arches into Stiles, moaning at the friction as their bodies rub against each other. He wants more of Stiles, more touching, more everything. He feels hot with his desire for it.

Stiles returns Derek’s enthusiasm, kissing Derek deeply and rocking their bodies close together, until Derek begins roughly untucking Stiles’ shirt, his hands desperate to touch skin. At that, Stiles pulls back a bit, breaking their kiss.

“Derek,” He pants, “Maybe we should slow down for a second, you know?” But slowing down is the last thing Derek wants. He leans in to recapture Stiles’ mouth, but only catches it momentarily before Stiles pulls back again, this time reaching his hands to still the progress Derek is making on his shirt.

“Derek, c’mon. It’s kinda tacky to go all the way in a coat closet where your mom could find us at any moment.” Stiles insists, “She already pretty much hates me, dude.”

“Don’t care.” Derek says, burying his face in Stiles’ neck, “Need to feel you, Stiles, please.”

Stiles stiffens, swearing under his breath before saying. “Derek, can you look at me for a sec?”

Derek doesn’t want to. Stiles smells so good, and it feels so nice to kiss along his neck where Derek can feel surrounded by his scent.

“Derek, please?” Stiles urges, a gentle hand coaxing Derek’s head upright, away from Stiles’ neck. He whimpers softly at the loss. “Derek, can I see your eyes for a second?” Stiles asks, as he brings one hand to rest on Derek’s forehead. Derek complies, meeting Stiles’ eyes as his entire being screams mate and want.

“I think you’re going into heat.” Stiles says, and that makes sense because Derek feels hot. He’s burning up and he wants Stiles to touch him so badly, wants Stiles touching every inch of him, but instead Stiles is pulling away.

“No, please.” Derek begs, “I need you to - please, Stiles. Touch me. Make me yours.”

“Derek, we can’t.” Stiles’ voice cracks with anxiety, concern, “I need to go get help.”

“No! Don’t leave!” Says Derek, frantically.

“Derek, no. I could get you pregnant, or--”

“God, yes.” Derek urges, “Fill me up. Please, Stiles, I want you inside me.”

“Derek, you’re not thinking straight. I promise you, you don’t want --- Hey! Danny, right?” Stiles is suddenly calling Danny over, “You’re a beta, right? Derek’s feeling, um…. under the weather. Could you keep an eye on him while I go get help?”

And then Stiles is leaving him, and Derek tries to follow, but Danny’s holding him with steady arms and telling him, “Hey, hey, he’ll be back soon, alright? Everything’s gonna be fine.”

When Stiles does come back it’s with the Sheriff and Derek’s mother. He surges toward Stiles, but the sheriff catches him by the shoulder saying “Woah there, kid.” while Stiles stands back looking worried and apologetic.

Derek’s mother wraps him in a jacket - his father’s, by the smell of it - and leads him out to the parking lot. Her touch is motherly and comforting, and not at all what Derek needs.

“- it was just really sudden, like a switch flipped and one minute he was just Derek and the next he was all heat-brained.” Stiles is saying as he and the Sheriff trail behind.

“It’s not all that uncommon for a first heat to be triggered suddenly given sufficient, ah, stimulation.” The Sheriff says to his mother, his voice calming and professional.

“I swear, Dad! We were just kissing!” Stiles protests, “We weren’t planning on doing anything inappropriate. It was just a kiss, and then his eyes got all glossy and he started burning up, and I came to get you right away!”

“It’s fine, son. You did the right thing. This isn’t your fault.” The Sheriff says. Derek catches his mother throwing Stiles a look like she disagrees. She helps Derek into the back of the car, but his entire body screams in protest at the thought of being separated from Stiles.

“Stiles, please!” Derek yells, pushing back against his mother trying to reach the other boy. He’s no match for his mother, of course, who holds him back inside the car easily.

“Stiles, you shirt!” His mother snaps. When Stiles merely gives her a confused look, she clarifies, “Take off your shirt and give it to me!”

Stiles rushes to comply, pulling his dress shirt over his head without undoing the buttons and handing it obediently to Derek’s mother, who shoves it toward Derek’s face. Derek immediately feels something in him settle. He still wants to throw himself at Stiles, but the urge is more subdued now. The reprieve gives him enough clarity of mind to be completely mortified by his actions.

The Sheriff swears. “They heat bonded?” He asks.

“It looks that way.” Derek’s mother replies.

“What does that mean? Is that bad?” Stiles asks, his voice verging on panic.

Derek’s mother sighs. “It means that Derek’s body recognizes you as his heat partner. It will make it difficult for him to be apart from you, specifically, until his heat ends.”

Stiles glances wide-eyed between Derek and both adults as the Sheriff assures them, “Don’t worry, the bond is temporary. It will dissipate completely as soon as Derek’s heat does. In the mean time, Talia, I’m sure Stiles will be happy to provide scented items to help ease Derek’s separation anxiety.”

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles agrees immediately, “Anything I can do to help-”

“I’m sure it will be much appreciated.” Talia says, cutting Stiles off. “I have to get Derek home now.” And with that she closes the door on Derek, climbs in the driver’s seat, and takes them home.

* * *

Heat is terrible. He knew, theoretically, that his first heat wasn’t going to be pleasant, but he figured a week of perpetual horniness can’t be that bad, especially since he pretty much has license to masturbate as much as he wants.

He had been really, really wrong. For one thing, he can’t stop craving Stiles. The shirt Stiles had given him at the ball helps a little bit, but it barely takes the edge off and the scent is fading quickly, getting muddied by Derek’s own scent. He feels pathetic, laying on his bed with his face buried in Stiles’ shirt, fingers teasing at his slick opening. He’s known Stiles for less than a month. That kiss in the coat closet had been their first, hell, it had been Derek’s first ever, and now a day later here Derek was sobbing into a dirty dress shirt as he fingers himself and imagines it’s Stiles filling him up.

Some time in the late afternoon the day after his head began, the door to his room opens just a crack, and Laura tosses something in before shutting the door as quickly as she can, making exaggerated gagging sounds and complaining loudly about the smell of his heat. He hears his mother scold her, faintly, for being insensitive, but that’s the other thing that sucks about heat - his entire family knows exactly what he’s doing, and exactly who he’s thinking about, and exactly how needy and desperate he is, and no amount of reassurance that what he’s going through is perfectly normal and natural can make those facts any less mortifying.

He gets up to retrieve the bag Laura left for him. Inside is a new shirt from Stiles, freshly scented. It smells like Stiles slept in it, and Derek takes a moment to imagine Stiles in bed wearing it. Not that he’s ever seen Stiles’ bed, or his room, but that’s what imagination’s for, right? He pictures Stiles waking up, sleep rumpled and all soft around the edges. Imagines Stiles stripping out of the shirt, and setting it aside just for Derek. Tries to picture Stiles’ naked back, wondering whether it’s dotted with moles that Derek will someday kiss one by one and memorize the placement of, or whether it’s a perfectly smooth expanse of skin.

He tosses the bag aside carelessly, but it lands with a thunk. He picks it up again and finds a small voice recorder in the bottom of the bag. Curious, he presses play.

“Hi Derek,” Comes Stiles’ voice, all soft and shy like he’s trying not to be overheard. Derek whimpers at the sound of it. “My dad’s been explaining this whole heat-bond thing to me, and why it’s good for you to have my scent around you right now. And I figured, if we’re heat bonded right now, maybe it’ll make it easier on you if you can hear my voice, too.”

Derek’s almost dizzy with the stimulation from Stiles’ scent on the shirt and his voice from the recorder. His body is singing _mate_ and _good_ as he thinks about Stiles sitting down to record this just for him. Lying back on his bed, Derek continues to let Stiles’ voice wash over him.

“I know you’re probably not in the best state for conversation right now.” Stiles is saying, “And even if you were, your mom probably wouldn’t let you talk to me on the phone. But this way you won’t feel like you have to talk back or anything. I mean, I’m kind of the king of the one sided conversation, if you haven’t figured that out already. I can just babble for days if no one stops me. And in this case I guess that’s kind of a good thing, because you can keep listening if this is helping you, and if it’s not you can, ah, just turn this stupid thing off I guess.”

Derek is never turning this stupid thing off. When Stiles finishes talking, Derek’s gonna go back to the beginning and listen to it all over again just so he can hear Stiles’ voice wash over him continuously. Stiles manages to talk for a good while. He chats about school, about Scott, about how his chemistry teacher has it out for him, he even gives a very vaguely worded update from the Jungle crowd, some of whom apparently had tips for him, which Stiles dutifully passes along.

‘Uh, Cherry says if you feel really overheated it can be good to cool down in the bath. But not with cold water, she says! Because apparently that can shock your system and mess things up. Just, like, lukewarm I guess? Just enough to lower your core body temp a little bit, since you’re, you know, basically running a fever all week. I don’t know, you should probably verify all this advice before actually taking it. I’m just passing along what other people said.”

A cool bath actually sounds kind of amazing right now. He casually googles _heat week remedy cool bath_ and gets back enough hits to verify that it’s something people actually do. Though one site he clicks on cautions not to stay in the water for much more than half an hour for fear of cooling down too much and making his body work overtime to heat itself back up.

Stiles is still speaking through the recorder, but his words seem less important now than the cadence of his voice. Lulled by Stiles’ voice and his scent, Derek falls asleep for the first time since his heat began.

* * *

Derek gets through the remainder of his heat week without much incident. It continues to be uncomfortable and embarrassing, but Stiles sends him new shirts every day and, somehow, he gets through it.

His first day back at school after his heat is awkward, mostly because the story of how he went into heat at the debutante ball has been twisted and exaggerated in the week he was gone, and some of the rumors are really unflattering. Add to that the kind of gross belief among high school alphas that omegas who have had their first heat are pretty much ready to go any time, and Derek finds himself being hit on, leered at, whispered about, and groped pretty much all day.

He’s exhausted by the end of the day as he walks out to his car, so it takes him longer than it probably should to realize there’s someone waiting for him. Which it why he startles when Stiles greets him from the hood of his car.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Stiles says, jumping off the car.They stand together, and Stiles rocks back on his heels awkwardly.

“I just wanted to swing by and see how you’re doing.” He says.

“I’ve had better days.” Derek admits.

“Sorry, I should have texted or something instead of just dropping in on you like this.” Stiles says.

“No.” Derek says, “No, it’s, uh, it’s better now that you’re here.”

Stiles grins at him. “Really?” he asks, and grins wider as Derek nods. Then he awkwardly holds out the bunch of flowers he’s been grasping since before Derek saw him.

“These are for you.” He says, “I stole them from the patio where we met.” The flowers look a little worse for the wear. Some of the stems are broken, leaving their flowers to droop sadly downward, and they look like they haven’t seen water in a couple of hours.

But Derek’s pretty sure this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for him, so he takes them with a smile and says, “That was pretty dumb of you.”

Stiles squawks, “It was romantic!”

Derek teases, “It was trespassing on private grounds with security guards who wouldn’t have hesitated to call your dad on you.”

“Exactly! Danger, daring, romance!” Stiles defends

“Ok, fine. It was romantic.” Derek admits. “Thanks for coming to check on me. And for, you know, being so good about the whole sudden onset heat thing.”

“Of course, dude. I’ll do anything for you.” Stiles says. “Up to and including, apparently, admitting to my dad that I was making out with my boyfriend in a coat closet.”

“Boyfriend?” Derek asks.

“I mean, not if you don’t want--” Stiles says.

“I want.” Says Derek.

“Oh. Good.” Stiles says, smiling. “Good. I, uh…. you’re, like, a hundred percent over your heat now, right?”

“Yeah,” says Derek, “I won’t get another one for at least 6 months.”

“Good.” Says Stiles. “Cause I don’t want to risk any history repeating when I kiss you again. Because sending the cute omega you’ve been crushing on into his first heat by kissing him for the first time? Kind of traumatizing, I’m not gonna lie.”

“You think that’s more traumatizing than going into heat because the cute alpha you really like just gave you your first kiss?” Derek counters.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t -- That was your first kiss?” Stiles asks. Derek nods and shrugs.

“Oh man. Um. At least it was a pretty good kiss?” Stiles says.

“I’m hoping my second one will be better.” Derek admits.

Stiles blinks at him for a moment, then smiles. He lifts a hand to Derek’s face and slowly, sweetly kisses him. It’s kind of amazing.

“Was that better?” Stiles asks as he pulls back.

Derek shrugs and, partly because he’s kind of an asshole but mostly so that Stiles has an excuse to kiss him again, says, “I hear practice makes perfect.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Stiles unintentionally triggers Derek's heat by kissing him. Derek tries to push things further in his heat-influenced state, but Stiles does the chivalrous thing and separates himself from Derek and seeks adult assistance. They spend Derek's heat separated.
> 
> Worldbuilding notes: Alphas and Omegas make up the majority of the population. Betas are roughly 15-20% of the population, alphas and omegas are roughly equal to one another. Reproduction requires an alpha/omega pair. Betas don’t reproduce (though they are perfectly capable of having fulfilling romantic and/or sexual relationships) which has historically had them somewhat looked down upon. Beta rights have risen over the years, and speaking ill of someone’s beta status is considered very backwards-thinking. There’s a dying wives-tail among the upper classes that good breeding will produce only alpha and omega births, which leads old families (like the Hales) to take pride in having only alpha and omega children, and well-born beta children are often kept out of sight (Derek has a beta cousin in New York that nobody likes to talk about). 
> 
> Omegas experience heats twice a year for a duration of about a week. Heats begin toward the end of puberty (usually at 16, but anywhere between 14 and 18 is considered a normal/healthy range though there is something of a social stigma attached to being too far on either the early or late side). The original tradition of the debutante balls featured omegas who had just gone through their first heats and were considered ready to breed, but the tradition has since evolved away from biology and mating. Now the invitation to debut is tied to age and school grade (16 year olds at the end of their sophomore year of high school) rather to whether an omega has experienced heat. The event is also geared far less towards mating, and more towards general schmoozing among the social elite.
> 
> a/b/o status is detected by smell. Alphas and omegas start giving off strong scents, noticeable from several feet away, beginning at the onset of puberty (around ages 11 to 13). This is the primary way people identify a/b/o status, since (despite certain stereotypes) visual identification is difficult without seeing private parts. Betas have their own scent, but it is not amplified at puberty the way alphas and omegas are. People often assume that those whose scent they can’t identify right away are betas, which is why Derek’s regular showering habit makes people mistake him for a beta. Omega’s scents are supposed to be their most attractive feature, and omegas looking for a mate are expected to play up their scent. Derek washing his away is sort of like an attractive teenage girl wearing baggy clothes and dressing like a tomboy.


End file.
